Nightsky
by AlluraDarkelf
Summary: Shalua is a Bosmer with a love of Ayleid ruins. She uses this love try to help support her struggling village and family. One day, she is saved by another Bosmer, a noble from the land of Valenwood. He's everything that a girl could want; rich, handsome, considerate. Will she be able to win him over, or will something completely unexpected happen?
1. Chapter 1

Shalua Nightbrook stared up at the Ayleid ruin, her heart racing with excitement. She carefully studied the ancient runes that were carved around the entrance to the tomb. Translating the text came as second nature to her, for she had been studying the Ayleids and their culture and language since she was old enough to cast her first Alteration spell.

"The age of knowledge shall overcome the age of aggression," she murmured. The rest of the text was too worn to translate. This must be a tomb for one of the priests. She had found through her studies that scholars and priests usually had these passive texts etched on the outsides of their tombs.

"There must be all kinds of tomes and staves in here!" she said excitedly. She pulled out her bow, Dreamweaver, and slowly crept into the tomb, ready for any bandits or creatures that may be lurking within. Her elven ears listened carefully for any movements echoing throughout the corridors. It was strangely silent, even for a tomb.

She had learned through past experiences that nothing was ever what it seemed. Her bow drawn slightly, she slowly made her way down a spiraled staircase.

She came to a curved corridor, lit by a single chandelier powered by three Welkynd Stones. As much as she loved collecting them, Shalua decided it would be better to leave them in their fixtures, as knocking them down with an arrow would surely draw unwanted attention from anything lurking beyond the twisting hallway. She unhappily pressed on.

Hours passed, and she explored much of the tomb without encountering a single creature, living or otherwise. There were at least some giant rats or a bandit or two. There didn't even seem to be a ghost, and they typically loved places like this! Still, she kept vigilant. She thought it odd, but decided to press on. She had come to the final chamber, a large, square room with a single throne in the dead center. In front of the throne was a pedestal, upon which sat a book.

Bow tight in hand, Shalua slowly walked into the chamber, watching for any signs of traps of movement. Her footsteps echoed throughout the room. She came to the pedestal, and carefully examined the book. The cover was white, discolored with age and dirt, and the spine was slightly bent in some spots, but otherwise appeared to be in relatively decent condition. There was no text or imagery on the cover to indicate whether this was a spell tome, a journal, or a book of history.

Deciding it was best to examine the book later, Shalua carefully lifted it from its resting place, wrapped it in cloth, and put it in her pack. She then turned her gaze on to the throne. It appeared to be made of ebony, with a single Welkynd Stone centered on the highest ornamental peak. The stone illuminated a very small radius around the chair, causing the rest of the room to appear darker than it actually was.

Satisfied, Shalua turned to leave. A chill swept over her as the light of the Welkynd Stone flickered out. She drew her bow and gripped it tightly, scanning the room for any signs of movement. Her pointed ears picked up the sound of heavy breathing, though she could not pinpoint where it was coming from.

As her adjusted to the darkness, she observed a darkened form running along one of the walls. She fired an arrow, but missed the figure. Cursing silently, she pulled another arrow from her quiver. Her whole body was stiff with anxiety.

The heavy breathing continued to fill the air, which was now about twenty degrees colder than it originally had been. The Welkynd Stone flickered again, as if something was draining the energy from it. It was in that split second that Shalua spotted what else was in the room with her.

"Lich," she whispered to herself. She had never fought a lich before, though she had read many books about them. Not that reading about them could compare to actually fighting them.

She quickly threw Dreamweaver to the side and prepared a minor fireball spell in one hand, while pulling out a silver short sword with the other. Her green, almond-shaped eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, and she found the lich, hovering in a corner of the room. She fired her spell towards the ethereal figure, sending smoke and flames flying through the air. The lich lurched forward for a moment, then let out an ear-splitting cry. It flew through the air at an unbelievable speed.

She fired another fireball at it, but this time it missed. The lich fired a spell of its own-an ice spike- at Shalua. She rolled to the side, barely dodging the attack. The spike shattered as it hit the floor, pelting Shalua with tiny shards of ice, cutting her arm and cheek. She gritted her teeth in pain.

This only angered the wood elf more. She charged at the lich, swinging her sword with deadly intent. A sudden wave of force sent her flying across the chamber and into a wall. Her head bounced against the stone, sending a wave of pain throughout her entire body. She groaned as she tried to stand, but she could not regain her balance.

The lich slowly inched closer to Shalua, letting out another earsplitting screech. Its unearthly cry only caused her head to throb even more. The stench of decayed flesh filled the frigid air.

She refused to die here like this, but she was running out of time. The lich was getting closer, so she had to think of something quickly. Her eyes drifted upwards, and landed on a large chandelier, whose Welkynd Stones had long since dimmed. She had to time this right. She scrambled towards Dreamweaver, desperate to feel its familiar wooden touch.

Using the last of her energy, she pulled one last arrow out of its quiver and drew the string of her bow. _Wait,_ she told herself. _Wait._

Finally, the lich was in the perfect position. She released the arrow, aiming directly towards the fragile rope holding the chandelier up. The spike cut the rope, sending the stone ornament crashing down on top the lich beneath it.

Shalua's vision blurred as her head landed on the cold floor. She watched through her dimming vision as the lich staggered before a bright light flashed from an unknown area of the room. The lich let out a final cry, though this one sounded like as though it was in pain. Then, complete darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Shalua felt like her entire body was floating. Her head didn't hurt anymore. She was surrounded by a warm, bright light. All of the pain she had felt before was gone.

She slowly opened her eyes, her vision still blurred and unfocused. She could smell something cooking. She could hear the crackling and popping of the fat over an open flame. Bacon? It made her realize just how hungry she was. Slowly, she sat up, not wanting to reopen any wounds she may have.

"Good morning, fellow Bosmer," a male voice said. Sitting on the other side of the fire was another Wood Elf, tall with chestnut colored hair. His skin was unusually pale for someone of their race, and his clothes were made of fine silk and embroidered with silver thread. A nobleman.

"Who are you?" Shalua asked, preparing to pull out the dagger tucked away in her boot. She had learned long ago that even when dealing with strangers, even fellow wood elves, you could never be too careful.

"I am Fruindal Springsky, a noble from Valenwood," the man said with a small bow. His smile was charming, and he was very handsome. His high, pronounced cheekbones raised slightly when he flashed his white teeth.

Shalua had met other Bosmer before, but not one who was from Valenwood, the Bosmerian homeland. Her family had moved to Cyrodiil before she was born; her brother and sister had more memories of the great forest because they were in their early teens when her grandfather had decided that following the Green Pact wasn't what was best for the family.

"What happened to the lich?" Shalua asked, remembering the bright light she had seen before losing consciousness.

"Destroyed," Fruindal replied proudly. He straightened his back and he grinned widely. He practically glowed in the sunlight, almost as if he were an other worldly being.

Shalua's heart raced at the sight of him smiling at her. This was the first time she had ever felt like this. She shifted slightly and began to try to fix her hair. She had had crushes on a couple of the boys back in the village, but nothing like this.

Fruindal turned his gaze towards a tent behind him and called out. "Velan!"

There was movement and shuffling within the tent, and a moment later, a man-an Imperial-emerged. He was taller than Fruindal, with skin tanned from outdoor labor and hair as black as night. His eyes were as grey as steel, cold and showing no signs of even the simplest emotion.

Fruindal rose to his feet and walked over to the Imperial. "Velan, see to it that our guest rides our healthiest horse to the Imperial City. I don't want her walking on her own after such a horrible ordeal."

"That's okay," Shalua interjected. She jumped to her feet and walked over to the men. "I'm fine to walk. I should be returning home soon anyway. My family is probably wondering where..."

That's when she remembered.

"My bag! I need that book!"

Fruindal placed his hands on her shoulders. "Relax. Your belongings are safe in the tent."

"I just need that book in one piece! I need to get it to the Arcane University as soon as possible!"

Shalua began to panic. She had to get that book to Arch-Mage Traven as quickly as she could. Her family needed the money. Without it, they would...

"Be at peace," Fruindal said, patting the top of her head. "We can get you to the Imperial City in under a day. Our horses have been imported from Skyrim, for the Nords have bred the fastest horses known to man and mer."

He turned to Velan once again, who seemed to tower over the elf.

"Pack up camp, then prepare the horses. We leave within the hour."

Shalua was curious as to why an Imperial would be working for an elf from Valenwood. From what she was told by her family, hardly anyone traveled to Valenwood anymore due to the thick, dense forests and the questionable practices of the Boiche. Perhaps he was a recent hire? There was no way that he had traveled to Cyrodiil from Valenwood.

Velan turned his gaze towards Shalua for a brief moment before beginning to collect the scattered dishes and tools. He gave off a very negative aura that made Shalua shudder.

An hour later, they were on the road to the Imperial City. Shalua and Fruindal rode two of the horses, while Velan walked alongside two more pulling a cart full of equipment. They talked for hours about Valenwood and the village that Shalua's family had founded.

Fruindal was an intelligent man, who spoke several languages including Aldmeri and Dwemeris. He knew much of the lore from the Ayleid culture, which was one of the more impressive things Shalua found about him.

Her heart raced like never before. Is this what it felt like to be in love? If so, she never wanted it to stop.

"So, tell me of your family," Fruindal requested. "Where are you from?"

"My family is from Valenwood," Shalua replied. "My grandfather decided to move the family because of some…personal beliefs. When they came to Cyrodiil, he used his knowledge of cultivating and hunting to start a small farming village not too far from Skingrad. It started with it just being my family, but then others began to settle, so now there are about six families total."

She smiled at the thought of home. It had been several weeks since she had been home. She missed the smell of her mother's roasted potatoes and the sound of her grandmother's humming some obscure melody. She missed her brother and sister arguing over the best method of irrigation and her father mediating the fight. She longed to go home.

"So, you're from Valenwood as well?" Fruindal asked excitedly. "Don't you miss the denseness of the trees and the sounds of the creatures in the morning?"

"Ah…Well, I've never been Valenwood. I was born after my family moved. I was born here in Cyrodiil about…twenty years after my family left," Shalua quietly admitted. "My brother and sister remember it though! They've always said it was one of the most gorgeous places in all of Tamriel."

She could have sworn she saw Fruindal grimace. He then smiled sweetly at her.

"How interesting," he said. "Though, why anyone would want to willingly leave is beyond me."

"What about you?" Shalua asked. "Why are you in Cyrodiil?"

"I'm here strictly on business. My family is looking to invest in some of the vineyards here in Cyrodiil. I'm here to speak to one of the owners outside of the Imperial City."

Nodding in understanding, Shalua turned towards Velan.

"What about you, Velan? Where are you from?" She offered him a small smile, despite the chills his gaze sent down her spine.

He stared at her for a moment, then turned his eyes down towards the road.

"Velan doesn't speak much," Fruindal explained.

There was a hint of disdain in his voice, she was sure about it.

Shalua turned back around. Fruindal seemed to not care for Velan too much, not that it was any of her business. She supposed that as long as he was doing the work he was being paid to do, there wasn't really much of a problem.

Soon, she could see the White-Gold Tower clearly above the tree tops. They were nearly to the Imperial City. The dirt path soon turned into a cobblestone road.

Her heart raced with excitement and anxiety. Would this book be worth anything? Or would it just be junk?


	3. Chapter 3

The city streets were bustling with people from every race of Tamriel. Nords, Khajits, Orcs, even an Argonian, all mingling together in peace. It gave Shalua a sense of comradery, though not like the kind she felt back home in Little Nightbrook. No, this wasn't as intimate.

"I love coming here," the olive-skinned elf declared, stretching her arms out wide. "I love the people, the shops, everything."

"Shall we meet at the inn around four o'clock?" Fruindal suggested, examining the city dwellers as they walked by.

"Sounds good," she replied happily. "Good luck with your investment."

"And good luck to you in your endeavor," her fellow Bosmer said with a bow. His long hair draped over his shoulders as he moved. It was like watching silk.

Giving a final charming smile, Fruindal turned and walked towards the main gates of the city, Velan trailing silently behind.

The Imperial made sure that Shalua met his cold, steel colored eyes as he turned. They cut through her soul like daggers.

With a new sense of confidence, Shalua turned on her heel and happily made her way towards the Arcane University. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she passed through the Arboretum. She couldn't wait to see Fruindal again, despite the fact it hadn't even been five minutes since they parted. She never thought of herself as someone who easily fell in love, but she couldn't deny the way she was feeling. She refused to call it love, though. It was nothing more than a crush. That was all.

"Welcome back, my dear," Tar-Meena greeted with a toothy smile. Her Argonian scales shimmered in the candle light of the Mystic Archives. "Have you brought another tome or artifact today?"

"I think I may have found something really interesting this time, Tar-Meena," Shalua replied excitedly, pulling the unknown book from her bag. "I found this in an Ayleid ruin outside of Kvatch. There wasn't any text indicating who the tomb belonged to, but judging from the lich inside, I'm guessing it was a very powerful mage."

"I've told you a hundred times to be careful when going into those tombs!"

Shalua slumped down into a nearby armchair.

"I know. I would have died if another Wood Elf hadn't saved me. I don't know what kind of spell he cast, but it destroyed the lich with no problem at all."

Tar-Meena's tail tapped the floor, something that happened when she was troubled.

"A Wood Elf cast a spell that destroyed a lich in one go? I've never heard of such a thing."

"But it happened."

"Shalua, honey, you and I both know that magic isn't exactly a specialty of your race. Now, I'm not saying that it's impossible, just very unlikely."

"But I saw it happen. Well…sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I may have been losing consciousness when it happened. All I really remember is a bright light. Then, the lich was gone."

Tar-Meena leaned back in her chair. "I can't tell you what you saw, or if this other elf is indeed that powerful. In all my years at the University, I've never come across a spell with that kind of strength."

Shalua pulled at a loose string on the arm of the chair. Tar-Meena would know if there was such a spell. A wave of disappointment swept over her. Had she been mistaken? Did a spell like that actually exist? And could a Bosmer cast it if it did?

"Well, enough of that," the Argonian sighed. "Let me see the book."

Shalua had completely forgotten about the ancient book in her lap. She reached out and handed it to Tar-Meena, whose eyes widened with curiosity.

Flipping through the pages carefully, she made series of grunts and murmurings to herself.

"I've never seen anything like this before," she finally admitted after a prolonged examination. "This requires further research. From what I can tell, though, this appears to be some sort of manual. I'm not exactly sure for what, but it could definitely prove to be a worthwhile find. "

"Um, I don't mean to be rude," Shalua quietly interjected, "but is it worth anything at all?"

"Of course, dear," Tar-Meena replied kindly. "Let's see…How does two-thousand gold pieces sound?"

"Two…Two-thousand?! A-Are you sure? I'd happily accept less-"

"Oh, hush. After what you went through to get this, you deserve it. And besides, your village needs all the help it can get. I know it's been hard since your grandfather died. What with that and the poor crops this year, I know your family needs the money for more seeds and livestock."

Shalua was so grateful to Tar-Meena. She had gone out of her way to help the little elf too many times to count. Letting her into the University even though she wasn't a student, buying artifacts and books for the Archives, it was all too much.

Warm tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry I'm so much trouble," she whimpered. "Thank you so much."

"It's no trouble at all. We mages don't get out much, so having someone like you who loves to explore is a wonderful asset to us. We're only happy to pay you for your services, especially since you so desperately need the money."

Tar-Meena handed Shalua a handkerchief, and gently rubbed her shoulder.

Dabbing her eyes gently, Shalua tried to calm herself down. She felt a heavy weight in her lap.

There sat a large coin purse filled with gold. It was the most she had been paid yet.

"Thank you," she repeated. She was so thankful to have met Tar-Meena. The old reptile had become like a second mother to her in the year that she had been working for the University as a freelance treasure hunter.

"Now, why don't you tell me more about this other Bosmer you met?" Tar-Meena suggested. "Sounds like you think pretty highly of him."

The tears quickly dried up at the mention of Fruindal.

"He's so wonderful, Tar-Meena!" she said without thinking. "He's kind, handsome, and intelligent. He's from Valenwood, from a noble family. He also studies the Ayleids and he speaks multiple languages-"

"Well," the lizard chuckled, "it sounds like you fancy him a bit."

"W-Well…"she stammered. She began playing with the loose string again.

"All I have to say is be careful. Love can make people do crazy things; things they normally wouldn't do."

"I know…"

"Drinks for everyone!"

The patrons of the King and Queen Tavern cheered at Fruindal's declaration.

"I'm guessing the deal went well?" Shalua laughed.

"It went splendidly," Fruindal happily replied, taking a large gulp out of his mead. "Have a drink, my dear. Tonight, we celebrate! Bard! Play us a tune!"

The atmosphere was joyous and without care. Everyone, except Velan of course, had a smile on their face. There was laughter and cheering, it felt wonderful. It reminded Shalua of when the village was thriving and her grandfather was alive.

It was too good to be true. Nothing can truly ever last.

"The Emperor's been murdered!"


	4. Chapter 4

AN: The error has been fixed.

The once festive environment was now somber and silent.

The Emperor and his children were dead. There was nobody to sit atop the throne. There was nobody to rule the empire. The same question was running through everyone's thoughts: What was gong to happen to the empire now that the Septim line had been eradicated?

Shalua's mind was racing. How would this affect her family? Would they have to move again? What about the other villagers?

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she raised her eyes to meet Fruindal's.

"It will be all right," he assured.

His words didn't calm the sea of uneasiness in the room. People were whispering in quavering voices.

"Are they sure?"

"What's going to happen?"

"That's impossible!"

Fruindal stood from his chair, running his fingers through his hair.

"Perhaps it's best if you retired for the evening," he suggested. "There isn't anything you can do at this point. All you can do is rest and be ready to leave in the morning."

While she knew he was right, Shalua didn't like the thought of doing nothing when something so drastic was happening, something that could change everything.

Fruindal took her hand into his and pressed it against his chest. His heart beat rhythmically beneath his finely tailored shirt and vest. The fabric of his shirt was soft and smooth.

"Shalua," he cooed, "you have been through a lot today. It isn't wise to go without rest. Your health will decline, and if that happens, you won't be able to help your family."

The truth in his statement was undeniable.

"Fine," she conceded. She pulled her hand out of his. "Please excuse me."

She made her way through the crowd towards the stairs to the upper level. Reaching for the railing, she was overcome and quickly jerked to the side.

"Velan!"

The Imperial loomed over her, glaring down with malcontent.

"Please let me go. You're hurting me," the elf begged quietly, not wanting to draw unwanted attention.

"Don't be stupid," Velan murmured.

To Shalua's surprise, his voice spoke with a calm, even tone. It wasn't as abrasive as she had imagined. It was actually rather…charming.

"E-Excuse me?"

"Do all Bosmer fall in love so easily, or are you just that naive? You don't know him like I know him. Stay away."

Shalua was taken aback. His first words to her were a threat, one that she didn't take too kindly to.

"I don't know what you're problem is," she replied, "but I would thank you to mind your own damn business. Also, never speak to me like that again. I don't care what Fruindal is paying you; you will never speak to me with such disrespect ever again. I will make sure of that."

With a huff, she stormed up the stairs and down the hall to her room. She slammed the door shut and paced around the room, trying to calm herself down. Never had anyone made her so angry so quickly.

The Bosmer threw herself onto her bed, burying her face into the pillow. It was becoming painfully obvious just how tired she truly was. She struggled to keep her eyes open. She could hear the faint footsteps of the patrons below. The muffled shuffling began to lull her to sleep.

Morning came too soon for Shalua's liking. It was raining, one of the worst things in the world in Shalua's mind. It meant she had to stay indoors all day.

She eventually wandered downstairs, which to her surprise was nearly empty with the exception of the inn keeper and…

Shalua gagged at the sight of Velan, who sat at a table in the corner of the room. After last night's confrontation, she couldn't stand to look at him. She quickly made her way to the bar and sat with her back to him as to avoid accidentally looking his way.

"A flask of mead and a sweet roll, please," she politely said to the keep.

As she waited patiently, she became aware of a presence behind her. Peeking over her shoulder, she was disgusted to find Velan towering over her. Rolling her eyes, she turned back around.

"Shalua-"

"Ms. Nightbrook," she interjected.

"Listen," Velan pleaded, sitting on the stool next to hers. "About last night-"

"You made your point very clear last night."

"I don't believe I did. All I ask, if you would be so kind, is for a chance to explain myself."

Turning towards him, Shalua opened her mouth to say something, then saw the expression on his face. It was considerably softer than it had been previously. His eyes seemed as if they were silently pleading for her to give him the chance.

Going against her better judgement, she sighed and replied, "Let's hear it. But let me warn you: Disrespect me again, and I will cut out your tongue and feed it to the slaughter fish."

Velan raised his hands helplessly, apparently understanding that she wasn't exaggerating. He leaned against the counter, silent for several long minutes.

"Fruindal," he began, "is not all that he seems. His keeps his intentions all but clear. The true reason he left Valenwood is not because of investments, but because he was forced out. True, he comes from a noble family, and yes, he does have access to unimaginable amounts of wealth. However…"

He quickly glanced around the inn.

"The reason he was run out is because he killed someone he shouldn't have. He murdered the daughter of another noble family, one that had been feuding with his for as long as anyone can remember. The politics of the Bosmer aren't as…heated as the rest of Tamriel, but they can be rather nasty when the time comes. The families were just beginning to settle, and a marriage was arranged. Fruindal was to marry the daughter of the other family in an attempt to quell the fighting. Well, he made no attempt to stop the wedding, but the daughter fought it from the very beginning."

The night before the wedding, the families met to make the final arrangements. The daughter was in the garden, and Fruindal went to fetch her for dinner. A little while later, he came running in frantically, saying that something terrible had happened. The daughter drowned in a nearby river. It was speculated that she committed suicide to avoid being married off to someone who she did not choose. However, the family didn't believe that. They were adamant that Fruindal had killed her because she refused to give him the dowery that night. He had amassed a large amount of debt by this time and needed the money because his family refused to help him in that aspect. The family's influence ran deep through out Valenwood, so his only choice was to leave to avoid being killed himself."

Shalua raised an eyebrow as Valen finished his story.

"You don't believe me," the Imperial stated, dropping his shoulders in disappointment.

"You're not the most credible person right now. On top if threatening me, it seems you don't like being bossed around by an elf, especially a rich one," Shalua spat.

"This has nothing to do with-"

" Oh, I think it does. I've seen the way you glare at him. It's like you want nothing more than to see him fail, or worse, die."  
>Snatching her mead and sweet roll off of the bar, she jumped up from the stool and rushed back up the stairs to her room.<p>

Slamming the door, the elf took an angry bite out of her roll.

What an insufferable, maniacal pig! How dare he lie to her like that?!

Her cheeks were hot with frustration and rage. She stomped her foot like a child having a tantrum. There was nothing she hated more than lying, especially if it was in an attempt to hurt someone's reputation.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door.

"Leave me alone!" she snapped, swinging the door open.

"I apologize."

Fruindal stood in the hallway, his long, brown hair tied back into a loose ponytail.

"Fruindal, I thought you were someone else…" Shalua mumbled, embarrassed.

"Ah," he sighed. "I was afraid I had done something to anger you."

"I'm sorry. Please, come in," she offered, moving to the side.

Fruindal stepped into the room with grace like Shalua had never seen before. Was it because he was a Valenwood Bosmer, or a noble?

"Such dismal weather, wouldn't you agree? Surely the Nine Divine are weeping for the Empire this day."

"I'm sure many people across Cyrodiil are. I don't think there's ever been a time since the establishment of the Empire when there wasn't a Septim on the throne."

"I heard rumor that a cult is behind the assassination. Of course, it's just a rumor," Fruindal said with a shrug. "Tales of mysterious cults and such; it sounds like a bunch of poppycock."

He walked over to a nearby window and leaned against the wall, peering out the glass pane.

Something about him made her wonder if what Velan said was true.

"What happened in Valenwood?" Shalua found herself asking. "Velan…Velan said that you were chased out."

She saw his entire body stiffen.

"What did he tell you?" he asked, surprisingly calm.

"That you were accused of killing a girl you were supposed to marry, even though it sounds like she committed suicide."

There was a pause, a long and tense silence.

"He told you the truth," Fruindal finally said, sounding as though the admission took all of the energy he had. He turned and looked directly into Shalua's eyes. "I killed Minata."


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I'm so sorry for the lack of updates. School's been kicking my butt and I've been busy with projects and filling out applications for my study abroad trip. Once the semester ends, I'll be able to update more frequently.

Fruindal locked eyes with Shalua. He looked pained, as though he was fighting a thousand internal demons.

"That night, in the garden, we fought," he began. "Minata didn't want to go through with the wedding, even though it would have meant the end of a thousand year conflict between our families. She was extremely distressed, almost frantic. I begged her to reconsider, to help end the fighting, but she wouldn't have any of it. She talked about running away. I tried to talk her out of it. In her frantic state, she lost her footing and slipped and fell into the river. I-I ran back into the house to get help, but by the time we returned… it was too late."

A sob left the elf's mouth and his eyes watered.

"Her parents blamed me for everything, and rightly so. I didn't jump in after her; but I panicked! I couldn't think straight! The family believes I played a more active role in the accident, however. They thought I held her under the water and drowned her. They made sure my reputation in Valenwood was ruined. I was branded a murderer. My family sent me here to Cyrodiil so that I wouldn't be killed myself."

Shalua felt her heart break with every word. She felt as though her whole world had ended when her grandfather died, but that couldn't compare to what this poor soul was going through. Being accused of murder, having to leave everything you knew behind, it was all so sad.

"I'm sorry for lying to you," he apologized, trying to regain his composure.

"No! Don't worry about it," she replied, gently placing her hand on his arm in an attempt to reassure him. "I completely understand. I can't imagine how hard it is going through what you are."

"Thank you for your kind words," he said gratefully.

"So what's the deal with Velan? Is he a hired hand?" Shalua asked.

"He is a servant for my family," Fruindal responded. "He's been with us for years now. He's angry that we had to leave Valenwood because he lived like a king. My family pays him well; in Valenwood he had an established place in society simply for the fact that he worked for the Springskys. Here, he's simply another Imperial."

He walked across the room, sitting on Shalua's bed.

"I would ask that you not repeat anything I've told you to anyone. There's no telling who may be working for the Greenbark family."

Shalua nodded.

"I completely understand."

They were ready to leave early the next morning. Velan finished loading the supplies onto the new wagon they had purchased and they were soon on the road to Skingrad to visit a friend of Fruindal's family.

"So if your family didn't send you here on business, where were you yesterday?" Shalua asked, realizing that there were several hours that were unaccounted for.

"Exactly where I told you I would be," Fruindal replied, taking a bite from a bright red apple. "Just because I can't return to Valenwood, it doesn't mean I can't still conduct business for my family."

"I see."

The road to Skingrad was long and uneventful. Shalua made sure to avoid eye contact with Velan if she could help it. She didn't want to admit that she was wrong for calling him a liar, but at the same time she knew she needed to be the bigger person. It was just hard for her to force herself to actually apologize to him. Her pride wouldn't allow her to.

All three of them were grateful to see the gates of Skingrad. They were tired, irritated, and covered in mosquito bites. They just wanted to hurry to an inn and get some rest.

They had caught word of an attack on Kvatch from a hunter they had passed. An Oblivion gate had opened outside of the city during the night and many of the citizens didn't survive the attack. A group had made it to the chapel of Akatosh, but no one was certain if they were still alive.

Shalua felt disheartened about the whole thing. Everything was unraveling so quickly in her homeland. She felt like she needed to do something to help.

"I'm going to Kvatch," she announced the next morning. She slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed an apple off of the table.

"You can't go to Kvatch!" Fruindal insisted. "You'll be killed!"

"I can't just sit by either. What if a gate opens near my home? My village doesn't have a city guard or Imperial guard to protect it. I need to stop it before it happens."

"You can't stop something like that from happening," Fruindal abjured.

"I can sure as hell try," Shalua snapped. She turned on her heel and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her. He didn't understand. Nobody understood, and there was no point in trying to get them to. This was personal.

Smoke covered the sky, leaving no sign of the midday sun. Thunder could be heard for miles around. The air was humid and thick. It smelled of fire and burned flesh.

Shalua found a small camp at the base of the hill Kvatch sat atop. The people were civilians, burned, wounded, and scared. There weren't very many of them, maybe around ten. No one said a word as she passed through the camp and headed towards the city. She didn't try to talk to them. They had been through enough.

The city guard were set up just outside of the Oblivion gate. They were talking amongst themselves, trying to figure out what their next move should be.

Shalua approached the leader, a weary looking man who looked as though he was on the brink of giving up on everything. He was staring at the gate intently, as if anticipating something.

"Um…excuse me?"

The man jumped, nearly dropping his sword.

"Stand back, civilian! This is no place for you. Get back to the encampment at once!" he yelled, fear and uncertainty clear in the tone of his voice.

"I want to help," Shalua explained, treading carefully. "What happened here?"

"We lost the damned city, that's what happened! It was too much, too fast. We were overwhelmed. Couldn't even get everyone out. There are still people trapped in there. Some made it into the Chapel, but others were just run down in the streets. The Count and his men are still holed up in the castle. And now we can't even get back into the city to help them, with that damned Oblivion Gate blocking the way."

"What will you do, then?"

"The only thing we can do. We'll try to hold our ground, that's what. If we can't hold this barricade, those beasts could march right down and overrun the encampment. I have to try and protect the few civilians that are left. It's all I can do now."

The man looked somberly towards the city.

"My home... my goddamn home, in flames. It kills me that I can't get in there and _do_ something. We couldn't have been any less prepared for this. Seems like they came out of nowhere. There were just so many of them... If only I had a way to strike back at the enemy. But we can't leave the barricade until that Oblivion Gate is closed."

Shalua's heart broke for this man, for everyone. So many people died, and what few survived were now without a home. She clenched her fists in determination.

"Let me help," she insisted.

"You want to help? You're kidding, right?" the guard scoffed. His eyes met Shalua's and his doubt quickly faded.

"Hmm... if you're serious, maybe I can put you to use. It'll likely mean your death, though. Are you sure?"

Shalua inhaled deeply, understanding the potential consequences of her actions. Her family would have to find other ways of making money, but she would rather them be alive and poor than die horribly in something that could have possibly been prevented.

"I'm sure."

"I don't know how to close this Gate, but it must be possible, because the enemy closed the ones they opened during the initial attack. You can see the marks on the ground where they were, with the Great Gate right in the middle," he explained. "I sent men into the Gate, to see if they could find a way to shut it. They haven't come back. If you can get in there, find out what happened to them. If they're alive, help them finish the job. If not, see what you can do on your own. The best I can say is, good luck. If you make it back alive, we'll be waiting for you."

"Thank you," Shalua replied. "What is your name?"

"Savlian Matius, captian of the Kvatch guard," he stated. "Or rather, what's left of it."

"Captian Matius, I will close the gate and end this," Shalua declared proudly.

She turned towards the gate, and, with a deep breath, began making her way towards the towering portal.

Now only a few feet away, she turned and looked back at the guards, all of whom were watching her intently.

Closing her eyes, and mustering all of the courage she could, she ran the remaining distance and slipped through the gate.


	6. Chapter 6

Shalua was met with an intense heat and a feeling of overwhelming dread as her body entered the realm of Oblivion. The air was thick, making it difficult to breathe. The heat burned her throat was it ran down her windpipe and into her lungs. She took a step forward, only for her foot to kick something. She looked down and was sick as she laid eyes upon a blackened corpse, charred beyond recognition. She noticed there were several other corpses strewn around the dirt path.

They must have been members of the Kvatch city guard.

Suddenly, she saw a figure running towards her. Unable to make it out completely, she drew her sword, ready for an attack. As the figure approached, though, she recognized it as human.

"Thank the Nine! I never thought I'd see another friendly face..." he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

"What happened?" she asked, sheathing her weapon.

"The others... taken... they were taken to the tower! Captain Matius sent us in to try and close the gate. We were ambushed, trapped, and picked off. I managed to escape, but the others are strewn across that bridge," he replied, pointing to a stone bridge just across from where they stood. "They took Menien off to the big tower. You've got to save him! I'm getting out of here!"

Shalua could see the terror and desperation in the man's eyes. She wanted help in closing the gate, but didn't have the heart to ask this poor soul to stay and fight; not after what he had been through.

"Cross the gate and return home. Your captain is waiting on the other side."

Fear and regret soon overtook the elf as she slowly crossed the stone bridge directly across form the gate. Just what had she gotten herself into?

As she approached the opposite side of the bridge, she noticed a group of about four scamps gathered around a burned corpse. Ducking behind a nearby boulder, she peaked around and got a better look at the abominations. She had seen the mages summon them back at the University, but had never been this close to them.

Quietly, she pulled out Dreamweaver and prepared to fire an arrow. She would have to work quickly if she were to kill all of them before they killed her. She released the string, and her arrow curved through the air, hitting one of the scamps at the base of the skull. It let out a shrill shriek before collapsing to the ground. It continued to scream as it laid on the dirt, paralyzed.

Shalua loaded her bow again and fired, hitting another one in the left eye as it turned to face her. The last two charged at her, one firing a fireball as it did. Shalua ducked behind the boulder just as it hit, burning a small chunk of her hair as it hit and exploded.

They were too close now.

She pulled out her sword and swung as she turned on her heel to face her attackers. The blade made contact with one of the scamps' arm as it reach out to release another fireball. She felt it sever the bone and rip through the flesh.

The scamp shrieked and fell back, sending blood flying through the air. Its comrade stopped running and looked towards it, as if it were trying to figure out if it should stop or continue with the assault.

This gave Shalua the opening she needed. She ran up to the scamp and, with a powerful thrust, ran her sword through its lower abdomen. It fell at her feet, letting out a few short gasps before falling silent.

Her gaze shifted towards the scamp whose arm she had severed as it ran towards the towers. Damn. No doubt it would alert whoever was in charge to her presence. With a sigh, she walked over to the last surviving scamp and quickly ended its life. No point in letting it suffer any longer than it had to.

She walked up to a large gate and pushed it.

"Damn!" she cursed. She looked around for a lever, a mechanism, anything that would open the gate. However, there was nothing.

As she examined her surroundings, she noticed a path heading to the west, or what she assumed was west. Perhaps it would lead her around this infernal gate and to the towers.

Wiping her blade clean on the scamp's corpse, Shalua began heading towards the towers, being as careful as she could in an attempt to not attract any more unwanted attention.

After walking for what seemed like and eternity, her thoughts soon began to drift. What was Fruindal doing right now? Was he worried about her, or was he caught up in trying to build up more business for his family? Was he even thinking about her at all?

Suddenly, an image of Velan flashed through her mind. She felt anger and disgust at thought of the Imperial. She could still feel the chill his icy stare sent down her spine when they had first entered the Imperial City. Damn him.

Hours passed, and there were no scamps to be seen. There was hardly any life to be seen in this bleak place. The plants were strange, releasing toxic spores if Shalua ventured too close to them, or they whipped violently at her. Were they not so dangerous, she may have collected some samples to take to Tar-Meena; if she made it out alive, that is.

Rivers of molten rock could be seen scattered through the landscape, and the sky was red. as if the entire realm thrived on anger and hate.

Shalua wanted to go home. She was tired, scared, and lonely. She was beginning to wish that she had listened to Fruindal, but she loved her family too much. That was one of her flaws; she was willing to do anything for her family.

She missed her family so much.

As she finally came upon the towers, Shalua noticed that time seemed to have no meaning here. There didn't seem to be any concept of morning or night.

The towers loomed over the elf, who had to crane her neck to see the top. Spikes protruded from the spires, and reached up towards the sky. The tower itself seemed was made of a type of stone Shalua had never seen before. The whole thing was frightening to look at.

Mustering up what little courage she had left, Shalua pressed on and entered the central tower, careful to not draw unwanted attention to herself.

Her whole body shook uncontrollably as she peered into the first room of the tower. There was a bright, yellow beam in the center of the room, appearing to pass through the various levels and up to the upper most room.

She began creeping along the wall, doing her best to remain in the shadows. Unfortunately, this was nearly impossible. The beam illuminated almost everything, providing very little darkness to cloak the elf. On top of that, it made a shrill, almost deafening noise that made her feel ill. She could barely see straight. It was one of the few times she wished she didn't have the acute hearing that came with being an elf.

Suddenly, she froze.

A scamp sauntered a few feet in front of her. The scamp wasn't what frightened her, though. It was the dremora that stood next to it.

She had never seen a dremora ...thing, it was so frightening. It was humanoid in form, with red and black skin, and small horns that sat stop its forehead. Its armor was a design that Shalua didn't recognize. A large, rusted mace sat at its side, blood stains still visible, even from this distance.

How was she supposed to fight that thing if it saw her?

She would have to figure it out soon, for it had caught sight of her and, along with the scamp, charged at her.

Without a second thought, she pulled out her bow and fired an arrow at the scamp, hitting it between the eyes.

Before she could fire another, the dremora was raising its mace high above its head, ready to bring it down with a heavy blow.

Her eyes fixated on the mace; her body froze.

_I can't do this. I'm going to die._

With an almost deafening battle cry, the dremora swung down at the elf.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

_I'm going to die._


	7. Chapter 7

AN: So, I'm posting two chapters tonight because finals are next week and I don't know how long it's going to take me to post the next one. Thanks for reading this far. Sorry if it's not that great. Any advice is welcome and appreciated.

_I'm going to die._

That was the last thought Shalua had as she watched the dremora's mace fall towards her. Her body was frozen, refusing to move though her instincts were screaming our for her to dodge the swing. All she could do was close her eyes and wait for the blow to kill her, if she was lucky.

The mace never made contact. There was a loud clang, then a growl. Finally, the sound of gurgling.

"Stupid elf."

Shalua's eyes shot open. Before her stood Velan, blood covered sword in hand. The Imperial leered down at her, as if trying to figure out what she was doing.

"V-Velan…" she croaked.

"I knew you would get into trouble," he sighed. "You should have just st-"

Before he could finish his thought, Shalua hugged him tightly. She was so happy to see another human being; she didn't even care that it was Velan.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, tears staining her cheeks. "I-I'm sorry."

She could feel Velan tense up immensely, almost as if her had never experienced a hug before. After a moment, he relaxed.

"Get-Get a hold of yourself, elf," he muttered, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm scared," Shalua whispered, burying her face into his chest. "I thought I could do this. I thought I was strong enough, but I'm not."

"I know you're not," he replied. "We tried to tell you, but you had to go and be stubborn and not listen to us. I'm surprised you made it this far without getting yourself killed. Do you realize how lucky you are I found you when I did?"

He continued on for several minutes, scolding Shalua like a child as she wiped the tears from her eyes. All the animosity she had felt for him before didn't exist anymore, even as he stood before her, yelling at her. The only thing she felt was relief.

After a moment, he sighed.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as if he realized he never checked to see whether or not she was injured.

"Besides having a bruised ego, I'm fine," Shalua smiled.

"How can you give me that stupid smile when you were nearly killed? This is the second time you've had to have your hide saved since I've met you. You're incompetent, and honestly, a nuisance."

Shalua sighed.

"I know I am. Honestly, I don't know how I've made it this long without getting myself killed."

As the words came out of her mouth, it was as though she came to a realization. She slumped against the wall, her knees giving out. She felt the weight of everything she had been holding in for years. The stress of trying to raise money alone, the loneliness she felt being away from home, but most of all, the pain of losing her grandfather.

"H-Hey…Don't be going limp on me," Velan said. "I'm not carrying you all the way back."

"I'm sorry…I'm just so tired,"Shalua whimpered. "I don't think I can do this anymore. I'm not strong. It's like you said; I'm useless."

"I never said you were _useless_," Velan objected. "I said you were a nuisance. There's a difference."

He sat next to her, crossing his arms. He furrowed his brow, as if looking for the words he needed to get his point across, or was it he was trying to find the strength to just say something at all?

"You…" he began, "You're not weak. Just incompetent. You rush into things without thinking, wanting to 'help your family.' You can't do that if you're dead. Think about yourself every once in a while." He ran his hand through his hair.

"If you worry too much about other people and not enough about yourself, you'll become a door mat and the people you're trying to help will walk all over you It's okay to be selfish every once in a while."

Shalua studied hime for a moment, unsure of whether he genuinely cared about her, or was saying this so she would get up.

He wouldn't look her in the eye, instead staring up, his gaze following the great beam of light in the center of the room.

"Listen," she finally said, "I'm…I'm not good at admitting when I'm wrong, so don't laugh or be smug about what I'm about to say."

Velan peered at her out of the corner of his eye.

There was a brief pause as Shalua tried to push her pride aside.

"Well? Say it."

Shalua sighed.

"I…I'm sorry for calling you a liar before," she breathed.

"I'm sorry. What was that? That noise is making it rather hard to hear."

"You damn well know what I said."

The elf rose to her feet and adjusted her sword. That's when a thought occurred, and panic set in.

"Where's Fruindal?!" she shouted.

"Sssshhh," Velan hissed. "Do you want to get us killed? He's back in Kvatch, you stupid elf."

She sighed in relief.

"Good," she said, turning towards Velan. "Shall we finish this?"

Velan quickly stood, glaring down at her. His grey eyes shined brightly as they reflected the yellow light.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered, storming passed the elf and towards a door a few feet from where they stood.

"Well, that didn't last long," Shalua muttered under her breath. "And here I thought you were a decent human being."

Her eyes fell upon the fallen dremora, and she realized just how skilled in swordsmanship Velan truly was. The mace lay several feet away from the body, which had a huge wound in the chest, right near the heart. The dremora would have died instantly. She looked back up towards Velan and watched as he disappeared through the doorway. Just who was he?

The two made their way through the tower, Velan slaughtering any dremora they came across while Shalua shot down the scamps. They worked pretty well together, she thought, despite the fact they could barely stand to look at each other.

Shalua silently followed the Imperial, thinking it best to stay out of his way as much as possible. After causing so much trouble, she didn't want to pester him, or anyone else. Never had she felt so useless and troublesome. But perhaps he was right. She always focused on her family, doing whatever it took to provide for them. She rarely took took time for herself. She never asked for anything specifically for her. It was always for her village. She had fought through ruins while sick with fever, just for a few measly gold pieces.

"Don't move," Velan whispered, holding his arm out in front of her. He peered around a corner, into a large antechamber.

"What's wrong?" she asked, preparing her bow.

"Dremora," he replied. "Two of them. One a mage, the other a soldier. I need you to take out the caster first, then I'll take care of the grunt."

He shifted to the side, allowing for Shalua to creep by and position herself for an accurate shot. She drew her arrow back, waiting for the right moment. All of her muscles tensed, ready to fire at the precise second he mage crossed her view. She had to at least do this right.

A dremora in robes as black as ebony came into view, and, with great confidence, she released the string. Her arrow flew through the air and straight towards the dremora's heart. Then, it turned.

"Shit," Velan cursed as Shalua's arrow bounced off of the wall behind the mage.

The mage let out a yell as the soldier pulled its mace from its holster. They both charged towards the intruders, their eyes bright like fire.

"Stay back!" Velan cried, charging towards them with his sword in hand.

Shalua shrank back behind the corner, falling to the ground. How could she have failed so miserably? She rarely missed a target, let alone a still one. She should have hit the dremora.

She could hear metal clash and battle cries roar. Then, a death cry. One dremora had fallen.

Her heart sank as she heard a second agonized cry.

"Velan!"

She sprinted around the corner and found Velan crumpled on the floor, blood oozing from a gash that stretched across his lower abdomen.

The soldier dremora approached him slowly, as if taking pleasure in his suffering. It spun the mace in its hand playfully.

"Humans are such fun prey," it hissed. "So determined, so weak."

"Just get it over with, you bastard," Velan retorted weakly, wincing in pain as he spoke.

A surge of anger shot through Shalua as she drew her sword. She wasn't going to let him down again. She was going to protect him this time.

With all of the strength she had, she raced towards the unearthly abomination as it raised its weapon.

"Don't touch him!" she roared.

She blocked with her sword, digging her heels into the floor.

"Are you completely mental?" Velan spat.

"Shut up and let me protect you for once, you ungrateful ass," she growled. "I'm not in the mood for your attitude."

Using her enemy's weight against it, she pushed up with her sword, causing the dremora to lose its balance briefly. She brought the blade down with as much force as she could muster.

_Please let me do something right for once._

Everything seemed to stand still. Then, the soldier fell to its knees. It glared up at the elf in defiance.

"You…will not…succeed…" it heaved. Blood trickled from its shoulder, through its shattered armor, and dripped onto the floor. Its mace fell from its grip and landed on the floor with a loud thud. "Mehrunes Dagon shall rule…"

With its dying breath, the dremora collapsed to the ground before Shalua.

"I…I did it."


End file.
